Trident's Fall - OPERATION: FROST CHASER
by Trogdor7620
Summary: Before Carolina's lust for vengeance... Before the Meta's rampage... Before Connecticut's betrayal... Even long before the Alpha's creation... There was a squad of Freelancers. Super-soldiers, empowered with the latest tech, they were the Director's personal death-ops squad. But every story has an end. And this is theirs...
1. Prologue: Dreamwalking

_It was a starless night. The only light was the glow of the moon, hanging in the sky like an apple, ready to plummet from it's tree. Snow fell gently onto the peaceful landscape, the only blemish being a trail of blood, ebbing from the soldier walking through the plains._

_Two straps hang haphazardly from his shoulders, his green armour scorched and perforated with bullets. His right hand was pressed tightly against his abdomen, the blood oozing from between his fingers. He removed his hand and looked at it. Even on the black full-body undersuit, the blood was clearly visible. The soldier looked up, revealing his face. He was a middle aged male, with brown spiked hair, and blond tips. His face was bruised, he had a black eye, and a gash on the side of his head. His eyes had the appearance of someone who had been through too much, and were different colours: amber on his left eye, dark grey for his right._

_Finally, he saw a lone tree, with the body of a woman, clad in blue armour, with a brown trim, resting underneath. He immediately began to jog over to the body, a look of joy on his face. When he reached the body, he rolled it over, so her face looked up. At first glance, she was beautiful: shoulder-length brunette hair, with a streak of blue coloring, the same shade as her armour, going down her left side. Her face was slightly discoloured, as if she had been beaten. But her eyes were an epitome of true beauty: ice-blue orbs that appeared to drill into your soul. But they did not see. The woman was dead._

_The male soldier's face transformed from one of joy, to one of despair. How could this woman be dead? She wouldn't just die on him. He slipped his hand under her body, and cradled her within his chest, quietly heaving sobs. His blood continued to pour out from the wound in his abdomen, but he no longer felt the throbbing pain._

_*crunch*_

_The soldier whirled around, and ended up face to face with the barrel of a M6C Magnum, held by a cloaked man. He couldn't be seen properly; coupled with the black cloak and hood over his head, he was virtually invisible. The soldier's mouth moved, struggling to find words._

_"Who are you?" He whispered._

_The cloaked figure said nothing. Instead, he raised his left arm, aiming the Magnum directly at the soldier's head. And just as he pulled the trigger, in the sudden flash, and the explosion that could be heard a planet away, the soldier noticed something before the darkness enveloped his sight._

_His killer had a robotic left arm._


	2. Chptr 1: Breakfast and Bedlam

Michigan slowly eased out of bed. The last night had been restless. Walking out of his quarters, he sleepily walked to the mess hall to meet with his fellow Freelancers and get some of the remaining good food. On the _Mother of Invention_, the best food was quickly swooped up by the fastest on the ship, leaving the slowest with slop and mush. The Director, and the UNSC, believed this was the best way to train their soldiers without them knowing it.

However, when Michigan finally got to the mess hall, all the good food had gone. Probably snatched up by Maine. Everyone on the ship knew he had a big appetite. He collected his tray of foul-smelling paste and went to the table with the other Freelancers. Most of the seats were taken. Only a few remained. Michigan sat down next to Nebraska, or Brask, as he was colloquially known. Brask turned to him with a puzzled expression.

'Where were you? You're usually one of the first here, Mitch.' Nebraska asked, using Michigan's nickname. That was how Brask was: always looking out for other Freelancers, taking care of them and making them feel at home.

Michigan looked at him sleepily, then back to his food.

'I . . . slept in. I didn't get much rest last night, Brask.'

'Nightmares?'

'Yeah.' Michigan picked up a fork and started to prod his meal absently.

'You've really got to talk to someone. If Idaho finds out about your sleeping problems, he'll flip; probably drum you out of the squad.'

At the mention of talking to someone, Michigan's tired eyes narrowed. He wanted to be rid of the nightmares, but there was no way in hell he would ever talk about them to anyone. Not Brask, not the Counsellor, not even the Director.

'If it's all the same, I'd really rather not.' Michigan responded flatly.

'OK, can't say I tried.' Brask sighed, turning away to chat with Wisconsin, Indiana and Delaware.

Michigan stared into his tray, put his fork down, and placed his head in his hands. No one was to know about what he dreamed about. His mind wandered back to last night. It was fuzzy, but he could remember snow, blood and death. But whatever it was, it would have to wait. He grabbed his tray, and quietly switched the gooey mush with Burns's meal (a hash brown which tasted nothing like a hash brown, a cup of coffee, and a baloney sandwich, for those curious), while he looked the other way. He began to wolf down his new breakfast with increased vigor. As he exited the mess hall, he heard Burns's voice yelling angrily.

"OK, which one of you pricks switched my breakfast?!"

* * *

'Training will commence in 5 minutes.' Michigan had never heard anything more robotic or rehearsed than F.I.L.S.S's announcements. He shook his head and ran as fast as he could to the training floor. Along the way, he saw the training teams. Wyoming and Maine vs. Delaware and Michigan.

Michigan quietly swore. He wasn't expecting to be first to train. And against Wyoming and Maine? The mercenary and the feral animal? He knew he was screwed. They may be rookies, but together, their skills were on par with the members of Trident Squad. But he did have Delaware on his side. She was an excellent fighter, regarded by even Maine as the best assassin Project Freelancer had ever seen, and Maine was hard to please.

Indiana pulled up behind him, and began to check the training floor roster. Upon seeing Michigan's foes, he snickered.

"Michigan and Delaware vs. Maine and Wyoming? Talk about the _Maine_ Event. Better hope you have your "Oming" rounds."

Michigan turned around, a quizzical look on his face.

"Why 'Omi...'?" Mitch started to speak, but shut his trap when he realised his mistake. Indiana, or Indy, was known as the jokester of the team, constantly making stupid puns, lame jokes, and projecting a goofy attitude. However, he was not to be underestimated: on the battlefield, he was Trident's sniper, known for being able to kill three men with one bullet, infiltrate a heavily guarded base and pull recon, and his ability to disable almost any technology known to man.

"One of these days, Indy, and I swear to God, I'll _whip_ your ass."

Indy raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. True, it wasn't that great, especially since that the origin of that pun, a series of classic movies , had faded into obscurity, but he didn't want to acknowledge that the pun was pretty funny.

"Keep trying kid. You'll get there." Indy patted his shoulder, then walked off in the direction of the observation area. Mitch watched him walked away, then slid the helmet he held under his arm onto his head. Ready or not, Maine and Wyoming, you'd be meeting your match today.

* * *

Standing on the training floor, Michigan grabbed his pugil stick, although it could be more accurately described as an electric shock staff. If you were hit with the end of one, it would deliver a mild shock. After enough hits, your armor would go into 'Lockdown' mode, signifying you were down and out.

Delaware was a trained melee combatant, and was often regarded by the Marines as the 'Swordsman'. Michigan would need all the help he could get. Across the room, Wyoming sliced his throat with his finger and Maine snarled. F.I.L.S.S's voice sounded.

'Round 1 in five. Four. Three. Two. One. Round begin.'

Wyoming and Maine charged. Delaware swiped her pugil stick across and sent Wyoming flying. Maine jumped and brought his pugil stick down like a hammer. Delaware tried to dodge, but wasn't quick enough and was brought down.

Michigan ran at Maine and swung one end of his stick into Maine's stomach, in an attempt to wind him. After his stick collided, he brought his stick back and slammed the other end into Maine's back. Maine turned and began to brawl with Michigan. Michigan blocked and swung, blocked and swung, his stick becoming a blur among the sparking poles, whistling air and the guttural growls emitting from Maine.

Michigan eventually brought his stick down like a hammer, and Maine caught it, flipping it and Michigan over his head like he was a twig on a branch. Michigan lost his grip as soon as he hit the ground. The next thing Michigan knew, he was on the ground, being pummeled by Maine's stick and his own. After many beatings, his armor froze, and he knew he was finished. He couldn't see Delaware, but knew she would soon succumb. His fears were soon confirmed when he heard F.I.L.S.S announce the winner. It wasn't them.

* * *

Round 2 was hand-to-hand combat. Michigan wasn't the greatest, but he knew that Maine had a brutish, but unrefined and sloppy style and Wyoming preferred long range attacks. At least he and Delaware had a chance this time.

'Round 2 in Three. Two. One. Round begin.'

'Del, springboard approach?' Michigan whispered.

Delaware flashed a thumbs up. She ran forward, then crouched. Michigan jumped on her back and leaped, hoping to catch his foes by surprise. He landed, rolled and drove his right fist into Wyoming's gut. Knowing that that alone wouldn't stop Wyoming, he followed up with a leg sweep, tripping Wyoming. Delaware soon followed up with a spinning kick to Maine's head. Both Delaware and Michigan jumped back to prepare for the next attack.

Maine and Wyoming quickly recovered and charged again. Delaware ran, and flipped over the two, clubbing the backs of their heads as she did so. Michigan quickly followed up with smashing their heads together and backflipped, kicking their chins to send them down again. Maine and Wyoming were tough nuts to crack, as they continued stubbornly charging, only to be pummeled down. Eventually, they went down, twitched, and then lay still.

'Round two over. Hand-to-hand combat complete. Point awarded to Michigan and Delaware.'

'Already? We were just getting started!' Delaware yelled.

* * *

_The snow crunched underfoot, as Michigan slowly stumbled away from the burning wreckage. He was injured, but still able to stand, despite the throbbing in his brain that threatened to make his skull split open like a melon. He kept walking, but the trauma was too much, and he collapsed in the snow._

_As he lay there, looking at the stars above, Michigan could've sworn that he saw one star in particular brighten immensely, then faded from view. If only he could be granted that same embrace. A million years of war, and where he lay... Michigan felt as though he had never experienced peace until now._

_A cloaked man stepped into his visage. Michigan could not see his face, but he knew what stood above him._

_A voice whispered in his ear, emanating from no one, and heard only by the two in the snow._

_"Run all you want. You know, deep in your heart, you will never escape me." The voice had anger in it. No, not anger. Hatred. Pure hatred, rage and vengeance._

_The man cocked his left fist, and unleashed a blow onto Michigan's head, with the strength of a MAC round. Michigan felt the cold metal fingers of the man's cybernetic arm, heard his head squish open like an overripe melon, and the darkness overtook him once again._

* * *

Michigan blinked, his eyes not used to the harsh light after having his visage encased in lockdown paint. His armor slowly freed up, and he started to feel the pain Wyoming and Maine had dealt to him in Round Three.

Washington and North Dakota looked at him, concern apparent on their faces. The looks soon morphed to relief after Michigan was able to move again. North Dakota was a rookie who shared a great friendship with everyone and showed deadly accuracy with a sniper rifle. North also had a twin sister, aptly named South Dakota. The two were one of the most lethal pairs in Project Freelancer.

Agent Washington was also a rookie, and was very outgoing. He looked out for anyone who needed help, and gladly offered advice. Many Freelancers came to him for advice on personal problems. He was as innocent as they came, his locker containing pictures of kittens and a skateboard. Wash wore steel armour with a yellow trim, North wore purple with a green trim.

'Glad you're OK, Mitch. Those two really pummeled you in training.' North started.

'I don't really remember much. What happened?' Michigan asked.

Wash soon explained. Delaware had been ambushed while she looked for Wyoming and Maine. She put up a fight, but was soon taken down. Wyoming snuck up behind Michigan and plugged two shots to his feet, one for each, anchoring him to the ground. Not being able to run, Maine shot as much of the front, and Wyoming shot the back, literally encasing him in paint.

Michigan soon remembered everything that had happened. 'So, all in all, we…' he plainly stated.

'Lost, yes.' Wash finished.

Michigan hung his head. This was a new low for him. If he kept performing like he did on the training floor, he would soon be removed from the program.

'Attention all personnel, will Trident Squad please report to the briefing room immediately.' F.I.L.S.S's voice rang through the room. Michigan didn't need telling twice. He sprung up and ran for the door. Before leaving, he turned back.

'Guys? Thanks. And do me a favour?' Michigan asked.

'Sure. What do you need?' Wash asked.

'Tell Maine and Wyoming that it was a good game.' Michigan couldn't really get mad at them. They were his friends, after all.

He turned and exited, running for the briefing room as fast as his legs would allow.


	3. Chptr 2: Lock and Load

Delaware sprinted down the hallway. What could possibly be so important that Trident Squad had to be together this time? Usually, only two members, sometimes three, was enough to succeed on a mission. Whatever it was, it would have to be of major importance, something the Director badly needed.

As she ran, a figure in green armour suddenly appeared in front of her. She tried to stop, but was unable to do so in time.

Delaware crashed into the green soldier, knocking them both into the air, and landing in a heap a ways down the corridor.

'Nice tackle, Del. With moves like that, you'd get into the Galactic Cup, no problems.' The green soldier rubbed his side, and readjusted his helmet.

'Well, if you'd looked where you-' Delaware's anger melted away as soon as she saw who she'd body-checked.

'Oh, Mitch! Sorry. I didn't see you.' It was a good thing she had her blue CQB helmet on, because she had suddenly begun to blush profusely. Since they had first met, Delaware had always had a... longing, for Michigan. She was't sure if the feeling was mutual, but she hoped so.

'Uh, Del? You're still on top of me, you know.'

She was drawn out of her thoughts by Mitch's voice. As she looked down,he was right: she was still sprawled on top of him. Embarrassed, she got to her feet, and hoisted Michigan up as well.

'You okay? Maine and Wyoming really roughed you up in training. You looked like a garden gnome in all that lockdown paint.'

'I'm fine, Del. A little stiff, but it's okay.' Mitch soothed, as he rotated his shoulder with difficulty.

Delaware sighed in relief. She was so worried about Michigan. But if he said he was okay, then it was a weight off her mind.

'Attention. Trident Squad, please report to the briefing room immediately. Repeat, Trident Squad, report to the briefing room immediately.' F.I.L.S.S's voice blared over the intercom.

'Oh, crap, we need to get going!' Michigan realized. He grabbed Delaware's hand, and sprinted down the hallway.

* * *

Nebraska paced abound the room, anxious to get started.

'We were meant to start five minutes ago. Where are Michigan and Delaware?' he wondered aloud.

'Give 'em time. They'll be here.' Indiana calmly stated.

'We don't HAVE time. We NEVER have time to wait for others, here or on the battlefield.' Idaho chided.

The door opened, and Michigan and Delaware entered, panting. Idaho turned and glared at them.

'Sorry. Ship is huge, takes ages to get from one point to another.' Delaware puffed.

'That's no excuse. You should know to check the noticeboard for upcoming missions.' Idaho growled.

'C'mon, Commander, go easy on them.' Indiana piped up.

'That will do, Agent Indiana.' An accented voice drawled that made everyone's blood run cold. The Director soon stepped out from the shadows and approached the holographic briefing table.

'We cannot afford one of our most elite squads to wait up for slacking members.'

'Slackers?' Michigan hissed angrily.

Delaware restrained him. 'Easy…' she whispered.

'Idaho, will you kindly tell Trident Squad what your objective is this time?' the Director went on.

'Yes, sir. Alright team, gather round.' Idaho tapped a few holographic buttons on the projector. A bluish hologram of Earth appeared on the screen.

'Recently, we have received word that Insurrectionists have taken control of a launch site containing Longswords, Pelicans, Vultures and experimental fighters called Sabres.' As Idaho explained the target, a holographic plan of the facility replaced the image of Earth, followed by a picture of a Longsword, a Pelican, a Vulture, and a Sabre.

'Commander, why would the Insurrection go after an aircraft hangar? I mean, what will it prove?' Wisconsin inquired, who had remained unnoticed until now.

'We don't know. We think they could be trying to ferry troops onto Earth from an unknown location. But that is unimportant at this point in time, Agent Wisconsin.' the Director answered.

'Our mission is to take back the site and eliminate any hostile presence in the facility.' Idaho continued. He pressed a few buttons, and a hologram of the facility sprung up.

'From what our orbital scans can pick up, it's heavily guarded by remotely controlled anti-aircraft turrets. Knowing the Insurrection, they'll have hacked into the system. This is where you come in, Del.' Idaho explained, turning to Del.

'You will sneak into the facility, and rewire the turrets. Once that's done, we can begin our assault. We'll split into two groups: Nebraska, Wisconsin and Michigan will take care of the Insurrectionists, while Indiana and I will secure the launch codes.' Idaho declared to everyone else.

'Is that necessary to get those?' Nebraska asked.

'Doing so will prevent the Insurrectionists from activating the vehicles for their use. They get the aircraft, who knows what will happen?' Idaho answered.

'One question: if the facility has anti-aircraft turrets, how are we dropping Delaware off?' Michigan asked.

'Every year, a meteor shower passes by the area. Rarely, a fragment of the comet breaks away and lands near the area. We're going to fake it this time. Delaware is going to drop from a pod and sneak in the back way.' Idaho explained, pressing some buttons. As he did so, a picture of a comet passed high above the facility, with a streak deviating from the comet and landing near the back of the facility.

'Any more questions?' the Director asked, shutting the holotable off. No one responded.

'Very well. Agent Delaware, go to the drop pods. The rest of you, get to a waiting Pelican.'

'Yes, sir!' Trident Squad gave a quick salute.

Everyone left except Idaho and Nebraska. They turned to each other. A concerned look fell over Nebraska's face, but his helmet hid the look.

'You didn't tell them about what the Insurrection could be going for.' Nebraska whispered.

'As long as we stop them getting those ships, then I won't need to tell them.' Idaho quietly responded.

'You sure we can stop them? They could have launched some of the aircraft by now.' Nebraska worried.

Idaho sighed, then looked at Nebraska, his helmet revealing nothing about the man underneath.

'I don't know. The only thing we can do now is hope that Delaware does her job.'

* * *

Nebraska ran with Idaho down the hallway towards the elevators. Along the way, they passed by Connecticut and South Dakota, the twin brother of North.

'Hey, guys.' South called out to Idaho as she ran past. He stopped running and looked at Nebraska.

'Go ahead, I'll catch up.' Nebraska told Idaho.

'Roger that. You're not going to take too long, are you?' Idaho inquired.

'No. I won't be long.' Nebraska quietly said.

Idaho rolled his eyes, turned and ran down the hall. Nebraska turned back. Looking at South, he was struck with a hard gaze. Despite being the younger of the two Dakota's, South had always wanted to be appreciated more than her brother. Feeling young always made her feel insecure: she just wanted to be appreciated more than her brother for a change.

Connecticut, or C.T., as she preferred to be called, was quite open of her distrust of the Director. Despite his subtle method of attempting to improve his personal soldiers, by ranking their abilities on a leaderboard, C.T. saw right through the façade, knowing that the Director was selecting the Freelancer's who would get special treatment, and who wouldn't. Because she wasn't on the leaderboard, she was quite bitter about the whole event. There were rumors of a relationship between her and a soldier, who turned traitor and joined the Insurrectionists, going sour, but these rumors remained unfounded. Not that C.T. was open about her past anyway.

'South, I can't talk long. Important mission.'

'How important are we talking here?'

'Classified important. Like, the standard cliché, 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you'-kind of important.'

'Hm. Just like the Director: tell the elite, leave the rest out of it.' Connecticut grumbled.

'Not my fault, Connie. The Director obviously wants something done.' Nebraska explained. C.T. snorted. She hated being called that.

'Then why wouldn't he talk to Carolina? Or York, or anyone else on the ranking board?' South questioned.

'We all know the Director's a mysterious person.' Nebraska said quietly. With that sentence, he turned and ran for the hangar bay.

* * *

As Nebraska rode the elevator to the hangar, he found himself wondering: Why HAD the Director picked Trident Squad and not a squad made up from the rookies? It seemed like an easy enough mission. And more importantly, how had the Insurrectionists taken over an entire launch facility without difficulty? It didn't seem right.

The elevator doors opened. Nebraska charged for the nearby Pelican. Idaho, Michigan and a Marine in a Cyclops heavy mech were loading supplies into the 'blood tray', as it was called in the UNSC. Nebraska saw his turret and backpack and grabbed them. He threw them onto the rear door of the Pelican and climbed up.

'Hey, man?' Nebraska asked, looking at Indiana. The Cyclops turned to Nebraska. He shot the pilot a dirty look.

"Not you, Joel. Indiana." Indiana walked behind Nebraska, loading his backpack onto the magnetic strip that ran down the back of the chestplate. He picked up the turret and sat down in one of the seats.

'How we looking?' Idaho asked Michigan as he jumped into the Pelican.

Michigan looped belts of grenades over his shoulders and loaded SMG clips into the bag on his lower back. Wisconsin was loading shotgun shells into one of the many pouches adorning the chestplate of her armour. Indiana was feeding rounds into his Sniper Rifle clips.

'We have about three frag grenades each, a couple of flashbangs, plus enough clips for all of us to survive the mission.' Michigan quickly calculated.

'Good.' Idaho's hand rose to his comlink on the side of his helmet.

'Idaho to Delaware, where are you?' he spoke.

'I'm at the drop pod bay. Ready to launch on your mark.' Delaware's New Zealand accent drawled with a hint of static.

'Alright. We'll see you planetside.'

'Roger.' The communication dropped. Idaho walked to the cockpit, to find Oscar Five Niner, Trident Squad's personal pilot, sitting in the pilot seat.

'Delaware's in position. Get the thrusters started, we fly out in 3 minutes.' Idaho ordered.

'Right. Thrusters spinning up.' Oscar Five Niner was one of the best pilots in Project Freelancer. Idaho had made sure to get the best of the best. Weapons, soldiers, pilots, whatever was needed, Idaho had requisitioned. As the last of the gear was loaded, the Cyclops lumbered away, with the pilot silently cursing Nebraska.

The thrusters flared with a loud roar, and the hatch closed shut with a hiss. Idaho pounded on the pilot door twice, and the Pelican began to slide forward. As it left the hangar shield, the thruster's noise was immediately silenced, and the Pelican angled planetside. At the same time, Michigan looked out the back of the hatch. The _Mother of Invention_ angled away, and a small pod was fired at the incoming meteor shower. Michigan tracked the pod until it disappeared into the glowing asteroids. He trudged back to his seat, and sat down.

"You okay?" Nebraska placed a hand on Michigan's shoulder, in an attempt to soothe him. Michigan thought back to the nightmares he had been having. The crashed ship, Delaware lying dead in the snow, and one thing he couldn't place: the man with the cloak and the robo-arm. They all had to be connected, somehow. This wasn't just some ordinary shell-shock nightmare. There was something more to it. There had to be. But with just three pieces, Michigan couldn't solve the puzzle. Not yet, anyway.


	4. Chptr 3: Spider-Delaware

After approximately a minute and thirty seconds of free-fall, Delaware activated her pod chute, bracing for the sudden deceleration jolt as she did so. But what surprised her was when it didn't come. She pulled the switch again. Nothing. Clearly, the switch had failed. But she knew if she didn't decelerate, then the impact would kill her. A timer flashed on the screen. How long till she hit the ground.

2:15.

With the ground quickly approaching, she had to act fast. She knew where the wires for the chute release were. She ripped off a panel and pulled out two wires. She sheared off some of the wire's covering with one of her knives, and started bringing them together, generating sparks. The timer flashed again.

1:30.

'Come on, come on,' Delaware whispered impatiently, bringing the wires together over and over again. It wasn't working. She silently swore, and wished she had picked up a re-entry pack before getting into the pod. At least that wouldn't kill her upon impact.

She kept bringing the wires together, until her fingers were burning hot, even from inside the undersuit. She didn't give up, and kept sparking them, glancing at the timer as she did so.

0:45.

Delaware knew she had to act fast. She looked back to the wires, and realized she was doing it wrong: she needed to keep the wires touching for the circuit to be completed, then, she needed to pull the lever. Delaware grabbed some medical tape from the medical kit that was kept in the pod, tore some off, wrapped it around the touching wires, and pulled the lever.

The chute activated. At the same time, the braking thrusters fired, the force jolting Delaware and nearly whiplashing her. Soon, she hit the ground. The hatch blew open silently: clearly a modification on that pod. Delaware grabbed her weapons and took a hard look at her surroundings, stretching her neck as she did so.

She was near the door of one of the hangars for the Vultures. All she had to do was slip in, though it seemed unlikely that the Insurrectionist occupiers wouldn't notice a huge door sliding open. Delaware kept looking for an entrance.

Looking up, she remembered that Sabres required a vertical launch when in gravity, so the roofs would be open. Holstering her silenced SMG, she placed her left hand on the wall beneath the landing. Hoping that the prototype magnets would hold the weight of her armour, she placed her other hand higher up on the wall. Then, locking her feet against the wall, she began to climb like a spider.

However, climbing a wall is no easy feat, especially when you're wearing armour that weighs as much as a human. For Delaware, it was particularly, as she didn't have the brute strength of Maine or the finesse of Carolina.

'If…I…ever meet…whoever designed…this…armour…I will…freaking…stab them.' Delaware strained. Every time she took her hand or foot off, her muscles screamed in pain. Delaware kept ignoring it, focusing on completing her objective. She knew that whatever the Insurrection could throw at her, the pain that would be inflicted on her wouldn't be anywhere near as bad as what she was experiencing currently.

Eventually, Delaware got to the edge of the roof. She stopped at the edge, grabbed the railing, and pulled herself up, expecting to see soldiers waiting for her. But luckily, no-one was there. Clearly, the Innies hadn't been expecting an infiltration from here. Looking down, she saw what appeared to be a launch pad, and a docked Sabre. Running silently, Delaware made her way to where the nearest indoor support framework was located.

Grabbing the scaffolding, she slowly climbed down to the concrete brace, using the scaffolding like a ladder. While climbing down, she saw a circle of light nearby, like a searchlight. Fear gripped her like an iron glove; if it illuminated her, she would be screwed. Delaware let go of the scaffolding, hoping her armour wouldn't cause the brace to collapse, as she had only descended halfway. Luckily, it didn't.

She dropped down to the gangway below, her armour making a soft clang as she landed. She expected the Insurrectionists to be guarding the launch pad, but it seemed clear that they hadn't been expecting an infiltration via the roof. Arriving at the door to the main area, she pulled out a spoofer and stuck it against the door, waiting for it to bypass the code and force the door open.

The door silently slid open, but an Insurrectionist was guarding the way out. Luckily for Delaware, his back was facing her. Silently, she slid one of her treasured knives out of the sheath on her greave, preparing to slice through the traitorous soldier's spine. She stepped forward, hoping that her armour wouldn't make a noise. She raised the knife, and buried it deep into the soldier's back. Delaware twisted the knife, and ripped it out. The guard crumpled into Delaware's arms, a look of surprise and pain on his face. She placed his dead body in the corner of the doorframe, hoping that the shadows would conceal him from view.

Delaware flicked the blood off her knife and then slid it back into her sheath. Placing her hand on the doorframe, she climbed her way to the ceiling, which easily hid her presence, as there were no lights there. She crawled towards the nearest door, in the southeast corner of the room, according to her built-in radar. Hopefully, the magnets wouldn't fail. As she crawled, she couldn't help, but listen to the Innies talking below.

'You hear about Patillo? Poor bastard managed to find the one room where the plasma engines were being tested. Managed to get out, but his beard's gone.'

'Damn. Poor Jack.'

'I know. He won't stop crying about it. The guy loved that beard. Refused to shave it.

As she crawled above the guards, she resisted the temptation to drop and engage them in combat. Delaware had a mission, she had to complete it. She continued to the southeast corner, hoping she wouldn't set off a sprinkler or something. It was hard to see in the dark ceiling of the room. After some strained crawling, she made it to the control room door. Spinning around, she dropped silently to the ground.

Placing a spoofer on the door leading to the turret control room, Delaware hid in the shadows and waited for the door to open. When the door did open, she prepared to slip in, only to discover that the room was under guard by two rogue ODSTs. Delaware would have to quietly eliminate them. Sliding her knives out of her sheathes once again, she held them in an icepick grip, and slowly walked towards the ODSTs. Raising her knives, ready to slice into the soldier's backs, they turned and caught sight of her.

The one on the left, a soldier with a capsule emblazoned on his chestplate, swung a fist into Delaware's stomach. She doubled over, winded and gasping. Her knives slid from her grasp and fell to the ground. The other ODST, one with scratches across his armor and a falcon adorned on his pauldron snatched them up and held one at her neck, the other at her side. Delaware thrust herself forward, tackling both of them and sending them flying into the consoles on the other side and stunning them. She dashed for the turret controls, and started reprogramming the turrets.

However, unbeknownst to Delaware, the ODSTs quickly recovered, and were on her in a flash. The ODST with the pill decal, pinned her arms behind her back, the other cancelled the reprogramming. The door slid open once again, and soldiers poured into the room, aiming their rifles at Delaware. Even if she engaged the soldiers, she'd soon be overwhelmed. She had no choice, but to surrender. She followed two soldiers, her hands resting above her head. The rest of Trident Squad would be here soon. Idaho would know what to do.


	5. Chptr 4: Storming the Castle

The Pelican flew above the atmosphere, unable to be detected by the launch facility's scanners. Oscar Five Niner tapped on the comms unit beside the seat. Static filled the cockpit as communications opened on Delaware's helmet.

'Agent Delaware, this is Pelican Oscar Five Niner, do you copy?'

The hiss of static filled the cockpit once again.

'Agent Delaware, this is Pelican Oscar Five Niner. If you are receiving, acknowledge immediately.'

Static. The door to the cockpit opened, and Idaho walked in, bracing his hand on the wall.

'Any luck with comms?'

Oscar Five Niner turned his head towards Idaho and shook it softly.

'They're jammed, or she hasn't got her radio on.' Oscar Five Niner sighed.

'Damn. That complicates things.' Idaho turned and started to exit, then turned back at the door.

'We need to get down there, see what's wrong.'

'With all due respect, what if the turrets are still targeting us? I've lost enough birds under your command, sir.' Oscar Five Niner said sarcastically.

'It's a chance we'll have to take. Could you bring up the map?' Idaho asked.

'How about a please next time?' Oscar Five Niner groaned, but he brought up the topographic map on the screen next to Idaho. Idaho ran his finger over the map, looking for a new landing zone. He tapped the screen near a rocky outcrop. The area glowed blue at Idaho's touch.

'There. There's a wall of rocks. We'll use that as a shield, offload from there.' Idaho decided.

'Updating coordinates. Go tell your crew to get ready. I want to be in and out quick and quiet.' Oscar Five Niner ordered. Idaho didn't say a word, just raised his hand. The door shut behind him.

In the 'blood tray', Nebraska was sitting in one of the seats, the turret spread on his lap. Michigan was adjusting settings on his grenade launcher, Wisconsin was organizing the medical supplies, and Indiana was loading spare rounds into his shoulderpads.

'Trident Squad, we have a problem.' Everyone looked up at Idaho.

'Oscar Five Niner can't get through to Delaware. This could mean that the turrets haven't been rewired. We're changing the plan a little bit.' Idaho turned and knocked on the door twice.

A light illuminated on the roof, beaming down to the floor. A miniature view of the facility and surrounding areas were shown on the ground.

'What kind of forces could we expect in the facility?' Michigan asked.

'Approximately a platoon, Michigan.' Idaho answered impatiently. He pointed to a rock wall separating one part of the beach from another. The half without the facility was shown as a red circle.

'The area holds a rock wall. We're going to use it as a shield, offload from there.' Idaho explained.

'Won't the front door be guarded?' asked Indiana seriously.

'Are you holding a stick or a sniper rifle? You'll take them down covertly. There's a clear line of sight from the here to the entrance.' Idaho explained, pointing towards a gap in the rock wall.

'We're entering atmosphere in five. Better strap in, it's going to be a bumpy ride.' Oscar Five Niner stated over the blood tray radio.

Idaho deactivated the hologram and took a seat near the wall. The Pelican rocked violently as the huge mass pierced the atmosphere.

'We're there. Opening the hatch.'

The door slid open, showing a mass of ocean. The view panned to the right as the Pelican spun around. Idaho undid his straps, as did the other Freelancers. They stood up and ran for the opening. Idaho softly jumped, and felt the sand beneath his boots give way slightly as he landed. He heard his squad do the same.

'Indiana, get to the ridge, take out the guards. We'll follow you when it's clear.' Idaho commanded.

'Roger that.' Indiana responded, readying his sniper rifle and walking into the gap in the rocks.

'Commander, why didn't Delaware have her radio on? Isn't that against regulations?' Wisconsin asked.

'Tough to say. She could have been captured, killed. We won't know until we ask them.' Nebraska simply said.

'Our objectives are to get the codes and stop the Insurrection. That's it.' Idaho said without remorse.

Michigan didn't say a word. Nebraska looked at him sadly. Michigan had been through a lot with Delaware. He was one of the first Freelancers who made her feel welcome. They often were paired up on missions, and worked exceptionally well together. But Delaware wasn't here. Michigan would have to trust in his own abilities.

Two loud shots rang out. Indiana had done his job. Michigan rose from his stupor and stood with his grenade launcher ready.

'Let's move out, Trident!' Idaho commanded.

'Oorah!' yelled Nebraska.

'Give 'em hell!' Wisconsin shouted.

The Freelancers charged through the rocks, up the beach, and into the facility. They encountered little resistance until they smashed through the doors. Insurrectionists crowding the hall, took a glance, and immediately opened fire. Idaho ran in, dodging bullets, and activated his sonic generator. A high-pitched tone sounded from his armor, deafening the Insurrectionists. Nebraska slammed his fist into the ground, creating a shockwave, which launched their enemies into the air, some even crushing their skulls against the roof. Indiana and Michigan quickly eliminated what was left with DMR and SMG fire. Wisconsin followed behind, killing any remaining enemies with a shotgun.

Climbing a ramp, they came across windows looking down on the landing pad, where they would have landed had Delaware successfully disabled the turrets. Idaho took cover at a door from their right. Michigan opened the door, and stood with his weapon ready. One person in a lab coat, who cowered at the sight of the barrel. His nametag read Dr. Michael Jones.

'Don't shoot! I'm not an Innie! I just want out of here.'

Idaho lowered his gun, and nodded back the way he came.

'What, no "Glad you're okay?" You son of a bitch! I can help you!'

'You're not going to be put in a firefight. Since you don't have armor plating, and I'm guessing you can't use a gun, then start running.' Idaho threatened. Dr. Jones immediately got the message, and sprinted for the exit, flipping the commander off as he ran. Idaho signalled for his squad to move ahead.

Nebraska took point. Climbing up a ramp, they reached diverging paths. Idaho stopped the group there.

'We'll split up here. Me and Indiana will get to the control room and secure the launch codes. The rest of you, hole up here, let nothing by you.' Idaho outlined his plan, and then sped off down the hallway to the left with Indiana in tow behind him.


	6. Chptr 5: How to FUBAR in 2 Easy Steps

Wisconsin cocked her shotgun, prepared for any incoming threats. Nebraska had his turret spinning, ready for anything. Michigan had his grenade launcher at his waist, loading in another explosive. All of a sudden, their radios crackled into life.

'Mitch, can you hear me?' a voice whispered.

Wisconsin's hand flung up to her helmet. Pressing on the comms unit, she spoke.

'Delaware? Is that you?' Wisconsin asked.

'Where are you?' Michigan sounded breathless and relieved.

'I'm in one of the cells in Section Delta. If you can hear me, I-' The comms unit was filled with static, and then went dead.

Wisconsin brought up a map of the facility on her HUD. Section Delta was the other diverging path opposite to them.

'Where is Section Delta?' Michigan asked, a tinge of panic in his voice.

'It's down that hall.' Wisconsin pointed down the hallway that Idaho and Indiana had not gone down.

'Our orders are to stay here, prevent any Insurrectionists esca-' Nebraska started.

'I don't care! I'm going!' Michigan yelled, and then charged down the hallway.

'Mitch!' Wisconsin called after him, but it was futile. Michigan had already kicked down the door and entered. She turned to Nebraska.

'Brask, you stay here. I'll go after him.'

'Fine. Just be careful.' Nebraska turned away, and readied his turret.

Wisconsin ran down the hallway and into the wrecked door.

Most the guards were already dead. Michigan was clearly determined to save Delaware. She ran through his path of destruction, and came across a bloodied Insurrectionist holding his arm in pain.

'What's your name? What happened?' Wisconsin kneeled in front of him and started to see to his wounds.

'Name's Ramsey. Your green friend charged through here. We couldn't see what happened. All I saw was a flash, then heard gunfire. Next thing I know, I'm covered in holes.' The Innie explained.

'Thanks.' Wisconsin sighed as she rubbed biofoam into the soldier's wounds. They may have been enemies, but he was still human. She got up, and continued down the hall. She came across Michigan brawling with some rogue ODSTs. He grabbed their necks, held them a foot off the ground, and started to squeeze his hands, strangling them. The ODSTs started to choke and grasp at their assailant's hands, futilely trying to get free

'Where is she?' Michigan growled.

'She's in… the cell… at the… end.' One ODST gasped. The other pointed towards the end of the hallway.

Michigan dropped them and smashed their helmets together, knocking them out cold. He grabbed his grenade launcher, loaded another explosive into the break action barrel, and charged. Wisconsin followed, hiding behind a support beam. The radio burst into life once more.

'Trident 3 and Trident 5, why the hell are you heading into the crew quarters? I gave you specific orders to guard the hallway.' Idaho spoke, a touch of anger in his voice.

'Michigan wants to find Delaware, it's the only thing he's focused on. I'm trying to stop him from doing something stupid.' Wisconsin whispered.

'Alright. Follow him and get him under control.' Idaho ordered.

'Roger that. Wisconsin out.' She shut off her radio, and looked up. Michigan had destroyed most of the doors of the bedrooms, getting close to the end.

'Mitch, wait! It could be a trap!' Wisconsin cried out, emerging from her hiding place and running towards the door that Michigan was about to blow open.

Too late. Michigan kicked the door, forcing it open and charging in. Nothing happened. Wisconsin followed him. He found him on his knees holding a blue CQB helmet with a brown forehead. Delaware's helmet.

'Trident Leader to squad. We have the launch codes. I'll radio in-' Idaho was cut off by a rumble that shook the ground.

'What the hell was that?!' Nebraska cried over the radio.

Michigan ran to the view screen, and saw two Longswords and three Sabres launching from the facility.

'Shit! They've started the launch! We have to stop them!' Michigan yelled. He charged out of the room, and back down the hall. Wisconsin quickly followed.

Reaching the launch command centre, Wisconsin ran to the view screen. The floor was slowly opening, possibly to get a Vulture gunship into launch position.

'What do we do, Commander?' Wisconsin worried.

'Michigan, you get out the front and radio-' Idaho turned to Michigan, but he wasn't there.

'Commander, I have a visual on Michigan! He's right there!' Indiana pointed towards the stairs leading to a docked Sabre.

Michigan jumped across to the floor with the crane, ran to the support brace, and started climbing up it. He ran to the scaffolding, and climbed up. He had done all this in the space of thirty seconds, and had a stitch, but refused to stop. Wrapping his fingers around the safety handrail, he pulled himself up, preparing for a foolhardy stunt. Michigan leaped off the rail onto the body of the Vulture.

At this point, Wisconsin had had enough. She ran for the door, and climbed to the roof, using the same route that Michigan performed. An escape hatch opened and a muscular ODST emerged, the same one as the one that had taken Delaware hostage, firing at Wisconsin with an Automag. Michigan stood up, charged at the ODST, his hand prepared to punch him.

The ODST ducked back into the Vulture. Michigan transferred his momentum into a flip, launching himself over the hatch, and landed with his SMGs in his hands. The ODST came back up with Delaware in a headlock, his Automag trained on her head.

'Get off my ship, or she dies.' The ODST threatened, thrusting his gun into Delaware's head.

'Shoot him! Shoot him!' Delaware mouthed silently.

Michigan's hands trembled, and then lowered. The ODST forced Delaware back into the Vulture and fired at Michigan, hitting his shoulder. Michigan cried out in pain and grasped his bleeding wound. The ODST re-entered the Vulture and closed the hatch. The Vulture turned skyward, causing Michigan to tumble off the back towards the engines.

Michigan was left to grab onto one of the protruding missiles. The Vulture fired its thrusters and rocketed skyward, forcing Michigan to fall back down towards the gaping hole in the launch area. Wisconsin grabbed her prototype grapple gun, and fired at Michigan, wrapping the hook around his wrist. Michigan swung down towards the wall, colliding with it and going limp. She started to retract it, pulling Michigan away from any more danger.

'Trident 5, we've just analysed the armament of the ships, and we have a problem.' Idaho's voice rang over the comms unit.

'How bad, Commander?'

'The Longswords that were stolen contained _Pandora_-class bombs. Remember the Battle of Arcadia? One warhead was used to destroy a Covenant cruiser.' Idaho explained.

Wisconsin's eyes narrowed.

'Shit! What could they be planning?'

'I've radioed Oscar Five Niner for evac. We're heading back to _Mother of Invention_ for debrief. We'll discuss it there.'

'Roger that.'

Michigan heard no more. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the Vulture's rear thrusters, taking Delaware to space. Then, everything blackened.


	7. Chptr 6: Lockdown

Michigan's eyes fluttered open. He felt a needle leaving his skin. Looking around, he saw he was in the medical bay on the _Mother of Invention_. Wisconsin and Indiana were nowhere to be seen, but Idaho and Nebraska were arguing outside.

'He risked the entire mission just to save another soldier?!' Idaho was yelling.

'With all due respect, commander, Delaware is one of the greatest additions to the team, and you know it! I would have done the same!' Nebraska retorted.

'You know how our squad works! No one does anything against my orders unless I give them the all-clear!'

'So you can do whatever you want, but we have to follow orders?! I've seen you disobey orders before! You're nothing but a control freak!'

Silence. Then Michigan heard boots stomping away. The door opened, and Nebraska walked in, holding his helmet by his waist. He slammed it down on a nearby table, and sank into a chair beside Michigan's bed.

'Hey. How's your shoulder?'

Michigan slowly rose from his bed, and swung his legs down onto the ground.

'It's painful, but mending. Where're Indy and Wisconsin?'

'Indy's getting the Pelican unloaded. Wisconsin seems to be trying to find Delaware. She managed to throw a tracking chip onto the Vulture.

Michigan's eyes widened. He stood, and prepared to walk out. As the door opened, he came face to face with Idaho.

'Where do you think you're going?' Idaho questioned.

'To help Wisconsin find Delaware. We have to help her, and finish what we started down there.'

'Well, the Director's confined you to your quarters. Mainly for insubordination, also for wasting resources, plus failing the mission. Charges will be pressed, and you may even be discharged.'

'What?! I didn't make us fail the mission; you must have gotten the launch codes too late.' Michigan protested.

'So it's my fault, is it? Get to your quarters, and wait for further instructions.' Idaho's voice had a dangerous edge.

'Yes, sir.' Michigan submitted, and trudged off towards his quarters. As he left, he swear he saw Idaho smile. He ignored it, and moved on.

* * *

Several hours later, Michigan was miserable. He was stuck in his quarters, and there was nothing he could do about it. But eventually, in the middle of folding an origami swan, his door slid open, and two Marines walked in.

'Agent Michigan? Free and Narvaez of X-ray Squad. The Director wants to see you.' The Marine on the right ordered. Michigan let out a sigh.

'To be honest, I'm not in the mood, guys. You'd best go and tell him that he'll have to wait.'

The one on the left shook his head.

'He won't wait, sir. You're to see him now, or not at all.' The other Marine spoke in a sharp British accent.

Michigan stood from his desk, placed his origami swan down, and was escorted by the Marines towards the bridge. On the way, ODSTs avoided his gaze; Wisconsin had told them about how ruthless he had been towards the ODST Innies. Michigan felt like he was being prepared for an execution.

Eventually, he arrived. The door opened, and Michigan walked in, his head held in shame. The Director didn't turn, barely even looked at him. Instead, he just spoke softly.

'I assume you know why I called you here, Agent Michigan.'

Michigan's throat was dry, he just lowered his head.

'You have spent several hours in your quarters. Why is this?'

'Sir, I was confined to there by my commanding officer Idaho, under orders from you.'

'I gave Idaho no such orders. And even if I did, Idaho has no right to isolate you. Only the Counsellor and I have that clearance.'

Michigan was puzzled at this sentence. Clearly, Idaho had received orders from the Director. But if that wasn't the case, then why did Idaho give him that order?

Michigan was roused from his thoughts by the Director speaking.

'If Idaho gave you these orders under my supposed 'command', then he's either mistaken, or a traitor.'

The Director paused in thought. He then walked over to a computer, brought up a display of Idaho's profile and motioned Michigan over. He complied.

The Counsellor tapped a datapad, and the screen showed a list of outgoing calls.

'We've filtered through Idaho's channel history. Aside from uninteresting calls to members of Freelancer, we have noticed a suspiciously large amount of data in an outgoing call. It's unclear what the data actually was, but we did pick up scraps of files, mostly hidden under the name 'Prometheus'. It's clear these files were being sent to the Insurrection, but we cannot trace anything further than that.' The Counselor explained as he swept through Idaho's profile.

Michigan finally understood: Idaho was a traitor. This was the reason why Idaho was always breaking rules, placing the blame on his squad and limiting their assaults on Insurrectionists.

'You want me to eliminate him, then, sir?'

'If he escapes, he will just cause more problems for us.'

'Very well. I'll do my best, Director.'

'Final note: I'm placing you in command of Trident Squad now. Treat them well…Commander.'

Michigan was stunned. He was in charge of Trident Squad? His lips quivered, then spoke.

'Thank you, sir.'

He just had the fortitude to salute and leave the room.

* * *

He grabbed his helmet from his locker, attached the comms unit to his helmet, and tested it. It was working fine.

'Trident Squad. This is Michigan. Idaho has gone rogue. When we have a definite location, we're going there to rescue Delaware, and capture or eliminate Idaho.'

'Why would Idaho go rogue? He always liked being with Freelancer.' Wisconsin questioned.

'Good question, Wisconsin. You see him, ask him yourself.' Michigan answered bluntly.

Michigan took the elevator to the hangar, hoping the Pelican would be waiting for him. When the door opened, Indiana was loading the last of the gear, using a Cyclops to load the last few containers. Michigan approached.

'Indy, how we looking?'

'We've got plenty of ammo and arms. Grenades aplenty, but the pilot's missing. Can't raise him on comms, either.'

Michigan pounded the side of the Pelican in frustration. As he looked up, he noticed something: One of the experimental booster frames was missing. Booster frames were small, swift, and deadly. They contained several canisters of high explosive missiles, two Gatling guns, a hidden turret akin to a Warthog's, and a massive gauss cannon. Perfect for ship infiltrations and disabling. The only weakness was the pilot was exposed to the vacuum of space, and needed a pressurized suit to operate such machinery.

'Idaho must have taken one. But where's Oscar Fi-' He was cut off when he saw blood dripping from the roof. He looked up, and saw Oscar Five Niner hanging from a cable attached to the ceiling. His head was bloodied, almost unrecognizable.

'Damn.'

He looked back at Indiana and waved to get his attention.

'Yeah?'

'You can fly this thing, right?'


	8. Chptr 7: Hi-ho, Hi-ho, Off to Work We Go

'It's been years since I've ran a simulation, Mit- I mean, Commander.' Indiana protested. Michigan led him towards the Pelican's cockpit, where Wisconsin and Nebraska were loading their weapons into the blood tray.

'You're going to have to remember, then. We don't have time to screw around. For all we know, the Innies could be there already!'

Indiana sat down in the cockpit and started up the engines. The Pelican whined into life, preparing to drop from its clamp into space. The dropship sank into space, and then detached. It fell, and Indiana balanced the engines to accelerate towards the impossibly far security station.

'Commander, how do you want to play this?' Nebraska asked from the blood tray.

Michigan left the co-pilot's seat, and walked through the door. He turned to Nebraska and Wisconsin.

'I've had the liberty of upgrading our ride's systems. This bird has an experimental energy shield. We should be able to stave off a few attacks.'

'Could they breach it?' Wisconsin asked.

Michigan sighed. He wanted his squad to feel comfortable, but he couldn't hold the truth from them, not like Idaho did on so many occasions.

'Unfortunately, that's a flaw in the system. I don't know how much punishment the shield can take before it drops.'

He tapped on the door, and the roof-mounted hologram projector lit up, showing the facility floating in space.

'From what the _Mother of Invention_'s scans can pick up, it's clear that most of the Innie forces are clustered at the hangars, plus they may have rocket launchers, so we're not going to land there. There's a viewing platform near the top of the facility which has a sealable airlock in the roof. We're going to land there, unscrew the hatch, drop in, and eliminate any attacking forces.'

As Michigan explained his plan, a Pelican flew towards the station, then pulled up, landed on one of the spires, and then disappeared.

'Indy will stay with the Pelican; make sure it's not targeted by any forces. When we've cleared out the hangar, I'll radio in, and Indy can land there. From there, we find the nuke, and disarm it.'

The facility disappeared, and a picture of a canister-like object sealed in a frame appeared.

'This is the weapon we are to disarm: a _Pandora_-class tactical nuke. Capable of annihilating all life and technology within a 5-mile radius, while doing minimal damage to structure. You've seen the Battle of Arcadia. It's essentially a thermobaric weapon combined with an emp.' Michigan explained.

'What's an emp?' Wisconsin asked.

'Electromagnetic pulse.' Michigan explained

'Actually, it's E.M.P. No one says emp.' Nebraska corrected.

'What are you talking about? No one calls it an E.M.P anymore. It spells emp. Simple enough?'

'Just saying, everyone calls it an E.M.P. 'Emp' will never catch on. Even if it does, those people will be idiots.'

'Emp is easier and quicker than saying E.M.P. Emp, one syllable. E.M.P, three. It's quicker that way.'

Wisconsin snapped her fingers to get their attention.

'Can we stop?! Michigan, you were saying?'

'I've pretty much covered it. Strap in, I think we're nearly there.'

Indiana's voice rang over the radio.

'Preparing to divert course for topside of facility. You'd better be right about this, Mitch!'

The Freelancers strapped in, and some seconds later, the Pelican pulled up, thrusters firing, and sending unsecured objects flying. Eventually, the Pelican levelled out, and landed on one of the spires of the orbital station.

'Grab anything you need and engage magnetic locks on your boots. When we open that hatch, everything that isn't secured will get sucked out of here until the pressure equalizes.' Michigan explained, securing the grenades on his belt and mags in the back-mounted bag on his armour. Nebraska grabbed as many belts for his turret as possible. Wisconsin had loaded all her shotgun shells in half of her chest mounted pockets, and placed two trauma kits on her greaves.

The hatch opened, and the air was sucked out. When the pressure equalized, Michigan cautiously walked to the edge. If any of them made a wrong move, they would possibly lose control, or worse, be propelled into space, a horrific death, one not worth thinking about. Especially after what had happened to Georgia. Michigan stepped off the door of the Pelican, and engaged the magnets in his boots once again. The others followed suit.

Michigan found the access hatch, and prepared to kick it in. He raised his boot, and slammed it down on the hatch. It caved in, and Michigan's magnetic boots brought him down to the floor. Wisconsin, Indiana and Nebraska climbed in after him, and Nebraska sealed the hatch. Instantly, the room flooded with oxygen.

'OK, boss, where do you think the nuke is?' Nebraska asked, grabbing his turret.

'These guys would probably want to do the most damage possible. They'd probably place it near the generator. You're going to have to extract it, so you can safely disarm it.'

'Wait, _we're_ to extract it? What will you be doing?' Wisconsin asked.

'Bringing in Idaho, and finding Delaware. Move out.'

Nebraska and Wisconsin took a service lift, Michigan took another one.

* * *

The lift door opened, and Michigan charged out. Bringing his grenade launcher, he aimed at any potential incoming threats. Thankfully, there were none. He ran for the computer and looked at the security screens. He pulled out a security spike and jammed it into the power supply. The screen lit up; he had access. He brought up the security cameras, and saw Delaware under heavy guard by Idaho, and some ODST Insurrectionists, possibly the most elite available. They had her surrounded and at gunpoint.

But what surprised Michigan was the fact that Idaho had repainted his armour. Instead of the usual indigo and khaki, it was now red and black. He had been busy. He slammed his fist on the console, and ran out the door. Michigan was determined to rescue her, and he would. Even if it meant killing his former commander.


End file.
